Harry Potter and the Power Within
by Fippets
Summary: The summer after fifth year is the worst yet, and with new powers and a Dark Lord out for vengeance to contend with, it could get worse very quickly. Terrible summary, please give the story a chance!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them, neither am I making money of any sort from writing this story. What I would really like, though, are reviews! Please please pretty please review it?

The air outside was sultry, the surrounding houses sweltering in the midsummer heat as the sun beat mercilessly down on their unprotected roofs. Everyone had fled indoors to the cool of their air-conditioned, semi-detached houses as evening drew closer, to prepare dinner and to talk to their families.

Or, if you belonged to the Dursley family, of Number 4 Privet Drive, to watch television. The son had in fact not moved from his position slumped in front of the set all day, only stirring himself to grunt out an order to his thin, bony mother, who would dash to get her baby whatever small thing his heart desired. She too was peering at the screen, whilst simultaneously attempting to clean an already immaculate cooker. The father, Vernon Dursley, had arrived home not fifteen minutes beforehand, had pecked his wife on the cheek and collapsed into an armchair from which he occasionally surfaced to bark at the program.

In fact, only one of the Dursley family was not present; indeed, to be honest, the term 'family' could only loosely be applied to him. The boy in question was lying on his bed in the smallest bedroom in the house, gazing out of the window as the last rays of the sun began to slowly slip beneath the horizon.

Harry Potter sighed and rolled over, resting his chin on his pillow and closing his eyes briefly. He instantly regretted this decision, as an all-too-familiar figure immediately leapt before his vision; Sirius Black's wasted form slowly curving backwards, as though carried by an irresistible force, through the gently fluttering veil.

_Your fault_, said the nastily sneaking little voice that had recently taken up residence in Harry's brain. _Entirely your fault. He's dead because of you, because of the way that you just can't leave well enough alone. Always got to be doing something, haven't we, Wonder Boy? Always meddling, and then you kill them…_

Shut up, Harry told himself firmly. Just – shut up. This is not going to bring him back.

Fighting back the prickle that threatened to overwhelm his eyes, he sat up and got to his feet. Much as he hated to admit it to himself, he had never felt more alone. He hadn't heard from Ron or Hermione in weeks, and though Hedwig came once a week bearing a letter from the Order, the message was always the same.

Be a good boy and don't get into anything you can't handle, though Harry bitterly.

He wandered over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. Still somewhat skinny, he had grown an inch or so over the past weeks. A year ago this knowledge would have pleased him, but now he couldn't summon up the energy to fell anything but dull indifference. And, he realised, hunger.

This latest epiphany coincided neatly with Petunia's yell of 'Supper!' from downstairs. Since the Order's little chat with Vernon at King's Cross at the start of the holidays, the Dursleys had adopted a policy of pointedly ignoring Harry whilst ensuring that he was at least aware of mealtimes. This way, they reasoned, they could be in no way accused of maltreating the boy.

Harry slowly walked down the stairs and helped himself to Petunia's congealed beef stew. He gobbled it as fast as he could, eager to escape the uncomfortable silence and return to his bedroom. Having finished and cleared the table, he hurried back upstairs, thankful to have finished the brief interaction with his so-called family.

The room was dark when he stepped inside and flicked the light on. Harry wasn't tired, and thought that since he was stuck here for the rest of the summer he might as well get some work done. It was the beginning of July, and still he'd had no real news from anyone. At this thought, he felt the familiar surge of bitter anger rise inside him, but crushed it immediately; there was no point in getting angry, because there was no one to hear.

An hour and a half later, he'd read a chapter of the insanely thick Defence book Lupin had sent him with strict instructions to read all of it. Harry reflected that there really was no point in struggling on with it, but that he might as well go to bed. He shivered slightly at the thought of sleep, but told himself that he'd just have to get used to either clearing his mind or enduring the nightmares, there was no other choice. He undressed and clambered into bed, and as his head hit the pillow he only had time to briefly notice that the moon was full tonight, and that somewhere Lupin would be transforming, before the black void of sleep stole him away and he fell into the ever-present pit of nightmare.

Later, Petunia Dursley would tell herself that it was the oppressive heat that had woken her. It was not the scream that penetrated her sleep, it was not the vague feeling of unease and it was most certainly not the odd golden light that was streaming out from underneath the door of Dudley's second bedroom. And she had not got out of bed to check that everything was all right, because she didn't care. No, couldn't care less. She'd simply wanted a glass of water and had gone into her nephew's room to tell him to shut up.

But whatever she told herself the reasons were, she couldn't forget the sight that had greeted her when she did go into Harry's room.

Harry, lying on his bed, writhing in apparent agony, uttering seemingly silent screams, though still appearing to be asleep. He was surrounded by a globe of light which was fundamentally a deep gold in colour, but which was punctuated by jabs of bright hue, red, green, blue, that stabbed down towards the boy. Every time he was touched by one of these bolts, Harry's head jerked backwards in another silent scream. And as Petunia gazed horror-struck, she noticed the energy gather in a spot growing brighter by the second. She opened her mouth to scream, to warn the boy…

Too late.

A shaft of brilliant gold light shot from the spot and pierced Harry's body, through what Petunia knew must be his heart. The globe vanished, leaving the boy's arching body transfixed by the beam. Petunia had to turn her eyes away as the light grew in intensity, until it was so bright that it rivalled the sun itself. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it departed, leaving the boy lying on his bed, the boy Petunia knew must be dead…

And yet who was still alive. Petunia saw the rise and fall of Harry's chest as he breathed peacefully. She saw it, and was terrified.

She turned and fled back to her bedroom to sob into her pillow and try to explain away to herself the occurrence she had just witnessed, to explain and to attempt unsuccessfully to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Still don't make anything from this. But wouldstill really appreciate reviews!

Harry awoke the next day unusually stiff. He rubbed the back of his aching neck as he yawned and stretched, his muscles complaining at the movement. The dreams last night hadn't been so bad, Harry reflected. He'd been expecting an all-out attack on his senses, as had been happening for the last week or so, but had instead experienced nothing of the sort. In fact, he was fairly sure that he'd never experienced anything like the dream he'd had last night before.

It had been filled with…light, which was strange. His dreams had always been so dark; the very presence of light in one of his dreams was unprecedented. And this hadn't been just any pale, weak light; he'd been floating in gold, filled up by it, the light spreading throughout his body…

He shook his head. It had been a very weird dream.

Harry stood up, and sat immediately back down again as pain hissed through every inch of his body, concentrating just above his heart. The pain subsided as instantly as it had arrived, and when he tried to stand again there was no pain at all, and his muscles felt completely normal – in fact, probably better than they usually did. This was getting stranger by the second.

It didn't help Harry's sense that something very odd was happening when Aunt Petunia took one look at him at breakfast, gave a little half-scream and vanished into the sitting room, where she remained until he had finished his toast and gone back to his room. When Harry got back, the first thing that he noticed was that Hedwig had returned. She was standing on his desk, and Harry recognised the parchment that the letter was written on as the same that the Order used for every single bloody letter they'd ever written him. With a sinking heart, he took the scroll from the owl's leg and unfurled it.

_Dear Harry,_

_We hope you are well. This letter is obviously to check up on you, but we also need to inform you of the plans that have been made for your accommodation for the rest of the duration of the holidays. You will need to remain with your family for a further two weeks, at the end of which you will travel to the Headquarters for the remaining week of holiday. Please reply to this letter so that we can ensure that it has reached you safely before sending further details._

_Yours sincerely,_

_The Order_

Harry gritted his teeth as he scrunched the letter into a ball. How _dare_ they organise his life like that? He hadn't even been asked his opinion, he was simply ordered and expected to obey without complaint. A wave of anger swept through him, as intense as ever. Knowing it was pointless, ineffective, childish even, he threw the letter at Dudley's empty wardrobe.

No one was more surprised than Harry, therefore, when an arc of flame leapt from his outstretched fingertips and incinerated the wardrobe, leaving a pile of gently swirling ash.

Harry sat down with a bump, staring at his fingers in utter shock. Where the _hell_ had that come from? He'd just…thrown the paper, that was all. And then…where had the fire come from? Had he created that without realising?

As far as Harry was concerned, this really was the cherry on the icing on top of a_ really _bad day. Somehow…he wasn't clear on the details…he'd managed to burn an entire wardrobe. Actually, vaporize was nearer the mark. And the really scary thing was, he'd done it without his wand. This wasn't normal, not even going by his twisted standards of normality.

He picked up a quill, reached for some parchment and paused. An evil little voice had just suggested something to him; _What if you don't tell them? They delight in keeping you in the dark…let's see how they like it_. But then a new thought occurred to him, one that banished the previous one completely from Harry's mind. What if this – thing – was something to do with Voldemort? That settled it; the Order had to know. He sat down and dashed off a quick note.

_Dear Order,_

_Thankyou for your letter and your kind attendance to my wishes _(he couldn't help a small edge of sarcasm creeping in)_. However, something very strange has just happened. Somehow I've just cast a very powerful Incendio spell by accident. I know this shouldn't happen any more, but it just did. That, however, was not the odd part. I did it without using my wand. I am obviously concerned about the origins of this – power, and would appreciate it if you would get in touch with me. I'm aware that there are a few of you guarding the house, so it really shouldn't be too hard for at least one of you to speak to me._

_Yours,_

_Harry_

Harry smiled thinly. Perfect; told the facts without giving too much away. He knew he should probably have told them about the dream, but quite frankly he hadn't been able to resist not telling them every tiny detail as they seemed to expect.

He sent Hedwig off with the letter, with instructions to fly quickly and only to return with a reply.

Meanwhile, he settled down to see what, if anything, else he could do. He discovered that he was, in fact, pretty much able to do anything. By picturing the action in his mind, he had managed to levitate several objects, including his bed, to summon a few things, and to shatter and repair a glass that had been standing on his desk. It was halfway through levitating this glass that Harry remembered the Ministry.

Bugger.

His concentration broken, the glass fell, smashing into weirdly shaped splinters. Without thinking, he repaired it, the glass re-forming as though he was watching a film being played in reverse. The casual way in which he did this frightened him, and he reminded himself that he still didn't know where this power had come from or what it was, and that he really shouldn't use it until he knew.

His thoughts returned to the Ministry. Without stopping to consider what he'd been doing, he'd been practising magic for the last hour. The Ministry would be down on him like a ton of bricks this time, that was certain. Harry groaned; why, why, _why_ didn't he stop to think before blindly acting?

Hang on, though, said his mind. You've been doing magic for the last hour. The Ministry's owls usually get here in about fifteen minutes. Does that mean…

"That they don't know?" he whispered.

Far from reassuring him, that was the idea that scared him the most. If the Ministry couldn't trace the power he'd been using…what the hell was it? Was it really, could it be, related to Voldemort? Voldemort, using the mental connection they shared to act through him, force him to do things, make him a tool…

He was distracted from these thoughts by a tapping on his window. Hedwig had returned.

"Bloody hell, that was quick," he muttered, taking the scroll from the leg that she was holding out to him.

The note was brief and to the point.

_Harry – _

_Don't leave the house. We'll be round to get you in 10 minutes. Make sure all your stuff is packed, you'll need to take it with you. We'll explain when we get there._

_Order_

Ten minutes…that meant he'd have to hurry. He felt a surge of resentment at the Order simply instructing him in this way, but then reminded himself why they felt the need to come; his strange and disturbing new power. He finished packing hurriedly, resisting the urge to just sweep a hand over the lot and get it to pack itself.

When the doorbell rang, Uncle Vernon was the first to reach it. There was a moment of shocked silence, then…

"BOY!"

Vernon's bellow echoed throughout the house. Harry hammered down the stairs, dragging his suitcase behind him. A glance through the open door showed Mr. Weasley and Remus Lupin.

"Harry – thank goodness – come on, quick – the Portkey will be off soon…"

"WHAT – IS – THE – MEANING – OF – THIS – OUTRAGE?!" spluttered Uncle Vernon, his face rapidly darkening to a fetching shade of purple.

"No time to explain, Uncle, sorry," gasped Harry, who lugged his case and broomstick out of the house and grabbed onto the deflated football that Lupin and Mr. Weasley were holding between them. "See you next summer."

The last thing Harry saw before the jerk behind his navel pulled him off his feet was the look of sheer outrage on his uncle's face. Then he was gone, flying through a whirl of howling colour, his case beside him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own 'em.

**AN: Don't usually do these, but I think this chapter necessitates one. Firstly, I want to thank Anna (who's known on here as juno malabre) for fantastic beta-ship. She is a marvel and without herI would undoubtedly fill my stories with terrible typing errors owing to my non-existent typing skills. She has an excellent story posted on here called 'The Unexpected,' which I strongly recommend you check out!**

**Secondly, thankyou so much to everyone who has reviewed! The reviews are lovely, it was so nice to get the little email bringing me news of them. Please, keep on reviewing, if only to tell me how I can improve this, or if it's going downhill at a rapid rate! And just to answer the question posed by poltergeist report 101, no, Harry hasn't just got elemental/telekinetic powers, it's something a bit more advanced than that, but as to whether it's going to make any sense at all, I don't know...**

**OK, will stop rambling and get on with the story!**

When the swirl of colour faded and Harry fell to his knees, feeling smooth stone under them, it took him a moment to realise where he was. Then it hit him; Grimmauld Place, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, residence of the late Sirius Black and the last place on earth Harry ever wanted to see again. He turned to Lupin and Mr. Weasley, who were dusting off their robes.

"Well? An explanation might be nice. Something along the lines of why you decide to suddenly show up at my house and order me out of it to bring me _here_ of all places?"

Lupin sighed.

"Harry, we will explain. At the moment the entire Order is sitting in the kitchen. We can talk in there for as long as is necessary. And as to why we're here, I would have thought that obvious." Lupin raised an eyebrow. "It's the only place we can discuss what's happened safely."

Harry groaned inwardly as he followed the two men into the kitchen. The entire Order. Whoop-de-doo. Just what he needed – interrogation.

As he entered the room, he had just enough time to glimpse a large number of faces sitting around the table before a huge motherly bulk nearly swept him off his feet.

"Harry! How are you, dear? Oh, Arthur and I have been so worried…but you're all right?"

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry managed to choke out from the enormous hug he was currently trapped in. "I'm…" _I'm_ _what? Currently possessed by a strange and frankly very scary thing which could well be Voldemort trying to destroy my mind even further?_

"I'm fine."

She released him, and he looked around the circle of faces that were staring intently at him. All were recognisable; and all about as welcome as a flock of vampire bats that have recently taken up residence under your bed.

There was Moody, looking as grizzled as ever, and just as scarred, if not more so. Tonks, whose hair today was bright blue and cut in short spikes all over her head, winked at him. And there, beard tucked neatly into his belt and with a serious expression on his face, sat Dumbledore.

"Hello, Harry."

"Professor," replied Harry stiffly. He didn't feel the raging hate that he had done last year towards the old man, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that somehow, Dumbledore had failed him.

"I expect you are wondering why we have brought you here so soon, Harry, when in the letter that was sent to you this morning we said that you would only be able to spend the final week of your holidays here," said Dumbledore mildly.

"Well, Professor, somehow I suspect that it might have something to do with the letter that I sent to the Order regarding the events of this morning," Harry answered dryly. As he finished speaking, he heard a faint intake of breath rustle from the Order, and noticed them suddenly avoid eye contact with him. So that was how it was going to be, was it? He felt the hot surge of anger rise up again, and this time didn't bother to check it, but let it flood out of him in bitterly sarcastic words.

"Oh, just perfect. Isn't that lovely? The one group of people I think I can trust to help me, and they're afraid. They're all scared of me, just like the rest of the entire bloody wizarding world. Great. So now I'm even more alone than I thought, because the Order is too scared of me to help! Believe me, you really don't need to feel afraid, because I've spent quite enough time doing that already, fearing what's inside me, wondering why the bloody hell it has to be me that all these things happen to. And now I get to _friends_, and you're all _afraid?_"

During this speech, far from feeling a kind of release, Harry had instead felt as though his entire body was filling up with energy, energy that fought to be released from him, and which he could scarcely contain. It had begun to seep out, tiny amounts escaping, but the amount was too large to all escape that way, and any minute now he was going to lose it…

Unbeknownst to Harry, Lupin had been watching him steadily throughout the outburst, unlike the rest f the Order, who had long since turned their faces away, through shame or fear, it was hard to tell. It was Lupin, therefore, who noticed the air around Harry begin to spark and crackle like static electricity, and it was he who bellowed at the others to take cover. The last member had just managed to protect themselves when Harry's tenuous grip on the energy within himself snapped.

A wave of blue-white light burst out of him and swept through the entire house. The raw energy smashed glass in photo frames, overturned small furniture and shook a couple of doors off their hinges. Thankfully, the blaze of power subsided after a few minutes, and the Order emerged from their hiding-places to find a boy, standing in the middle of the kitchen, shaking slightly, who turned a milk-white face to them and whispered,

"I'm sorry. I lost control," before he collapsed.

Blurred faces and fuzzy voices floated above him, and he caught snatches of buzzing conversations as he slowly drifted back into consciousness.

"…absolutely incredible…"

"…and you say the Ministry doesn't know?"

"…will he be all right, Poppy?"

And the strongest yet,

"Yes – look, he's waking up now. Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Madam Pomfrey's head floated into view, closely followed by a glass containing some red liquid which she proceeded to force down Harry's throat. It felt as though a violent chemical reaction had just taken place in his stomach, and he was jolted back into full consciousness unpleasantly quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please move through to the other rooms so that Madam Pomfrey and myself can check Harry's condition?"

Dumbledore's voice cut through the chatter that had arisen upon Harry's return to wakefulness. The room emptied rapidly, leaving a blissful sense of peace. The old man turned to Harry again.

"Now then, Harry…"

He was cut short by Harry's interruption.

"Professor, please tell me, I really need to know. Is this…power…something to do with Voldemort?"

Dumbledore sat on the edge of Harry's bed and smiled at him.

"I think it highly unlikely. You do share a mental connection with Voldemort and also possess a few of his powers. However, it has been proven that this type of connection can only serve as a means of sharing reactions and experiences, never powers. But to confirm this theory, I need to know all of the exact details of your discovery of this power."

Harry took a deep breath; the time for prevarication was over.

"I woke up this morning after a particularly strange dream. It didn't involve Voldemort," he added hastily, seeing the look on Dumbledore's face. "I was being filled by light – different coloured light, but mainly gold. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until after breakfast when I received the Order's letter. Then somehow I managed to burn a wardrobe – without my wand. The fire just flew out of my fingers. I wrote and told the Order, and then Lupin and Mr. Weasley turned up. He finished, and looked at Dumbledore, whose face now bore an extremely thoughtful expression.

"I see…thankyou, Harry. I wonder…" he said to the room at large, before lapsing into concentration. He blinked, and turned again to Harry.

"I shall go and tell Remus of your explanation. It may aid him in his research – he is currently going through the Black family library to see whether there is any information about your – condition." He finished with a wry smile, and stood up to go and open the door. Before he reached it, however, it was flung open to reveal Lupin clutching a large book and looking strangely excited.

"Albus, I think I've got it! I think I know what's happened to Harry!"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: And would you believe it, I still don't own them. Also, as I'm a lazy sod (and thus too lazy to write author's notes here) I'm going to use this space to say my thankyous to all the lovely, lovely people who've reviewed. You are all stars and your reviews brighten my sad little life. And sorry about this chapter, but it had to be used to explain everything and this took longer than I anticipated! Ok, here goes...

Dumbledore stopped still and surveyed the man standing before him with a look somewhat akin to amazement.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Albus." The expression on Lupin's face was a strange mixture of elation and awe; as if he was overjoyed to have discovered the answer, yet unable to believe it when he had found it. "I found a safe down in the cellar, looked like it hadn't been touched for who knows how long. It was magical, obviously, and so I tested the spells on it. They were very old and broke easily – just as well; if I'd tried it when they were freshly cast, I'd be lying down there in several small pieces." A wry smile flickered across his face. "Seems the Black family didn't want anyone to find this again." He brandished the huge book he was carrying, and dust flew out of the pages, making Harry cough. "The thing is, Albus, I think the answer to the situation is right here!"

Dumbledore reacted immediately.

"Remus, call the Order and assemble in the kitchen in ten minutes, you can tell us what it us you've found when we're all together." Lupin nodded and walked briskly out of the room. Harry heard him clatter down the stairs, but his attention snapped back to Dumbledore when he heard the old man speaking again.

"Now then, Harry, do you feel up to coming downstairs with the rest of us?"

"Professor, surprising as it may seem, I am not going to pass up on the chance to fins out exactly what is happening to me. Can I ask one question, though? How did…er…Lupin find out what the answer was so quickly? I've only been unconscious for a few minutes."

There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he turned to face Harry again.

"Harry, you have not been unconscious for 'a few minutes.' You have in fact been unconscious for a good five hours. Whatever power emanated from you was so potent that your body needed a long time to recover, giving Remus plenty of time to do some research." With that he strode out of the room, leaving Harry to ponder that last piece of information.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, holding onto the bedside table for a while, as his legs felt somewhat shaky – not surprisingly, he reflected, considering they hadn't been used for apparently five hours. When they felt stronger, he dragged on his shirt which had obviously been removed at some point, slipped his feet into his trainers which had been left by the side of the bed, and surveyed his reflection in the mirror which hung over the fireplace. Satisfied that he didn't look as weak as he felt, he too left the room and wearily walked down the stairs and into the spacious kitchen.

The scene was much the same as when he had last set foot inside the room, except that this time a chair had been set for him as well, in between Tonks and Mrs. Weasley. As he sat down, Tonks whispered, "All right there, Harry?" to which he could only smile and nod, and wish the whole thing was over already.

A cough from the end of the table drew everyone's attention to Dumbledore, who was now standing and surveying them all before speaking.

"Now that Harry has joined us, I think we can begin. Remus, if you would?"

The tall, thin figure of the werewolf rose, and Lupin placed the book he had been carrying on the table. He cleared his throat, and began to explain.

"As I was searching through the cellars here – where the Black family library is situated – I happened to chance across a small and well-concealed safe, magically locked with extremely potent spells which were thankfully very old and diluted. After I had broken these, I opened the safe to find – this book. Its title, as some of you will have noticed, is _A Brief History of Wizardry_, which is," he smiled, "something of a misnomer, as the book as some 4,000 pages long. Pages which are handwritten on vellum, suggesting that not only is this book extremely old, but that secondly it is probably the only one of its kind in existence.

"Naturally, my curiosity was aroused. Why would earlier generations of the Black family have considered the book so dangerous that they determined that it should never be read again? They could not destroy it – it has some intriguingly complex preservation spells on it -"

"Get on with it, Remus," growled Moody from the other side of the room.

"I'm getting there, Alastor. So, as it could not be destroyed, they did the next best thing, and hid it very carefully. Such preparation; all this led me to the conclusion that this book must contain some information considered by the Blacks to be too dangerous to be available to future generations. So, of course, I began to read.

"I read for what must have been an hour, until I came to a passage concerning the four Founders of Hogwarts, which someone had obligingly highlighted. You all, of course, know who the founders were. It was, therefore, in this passage, that I discovered the answer." He paused, and gazed around him for a moment before stating,

"Harry has come into his Inheritance."

Harry was confused. His what? By the bemused looks that others were sharing, they were equally bewildered. Only Dumbledore sat stock still, an expression of grave seriousness upon his face. It was he who broke the wondering silence which had fallen over the company.

"What are you saying, Remus?"

"I shall explain, Headmaster. At first I too was confused, until I read further, and found this." He pulled a scroll out of his pocket and unrolled on the table.

"This shows the bloodlines of all the pure-blooded wizarding families. This one goes back far, far further than any I have ever encountered before, right back to the time of the Founders." He tapped the parchment. "Now, we can see various lines that have died out; those of Watson, Fryer and Vesuvier, for example. And we can see the lines that are still around today; such as those of Malfoy, Weasley and – Potter."

Harry was interested, but not particularly amazed. He knew that his father had come from a long line of pure-bloods – this parchment simply told him that it was very long indeed. However, it appeared that Lupin had not finished, as he continued to speak.

"Now then, if we follow the line of Potters back as far as it will go, what do we see?"

A collective gasp arose from those who could see the parchment, Harry, who could not, wondered what had happened now. Lupin's voice cut through the babble.

"Harry Potter is the direct, and only, descendant of Godric Gryffindor - we might say, the Heir of Gryffindor."

This just gets better, though Harry grimly. First you get lumbered with yet more freakishness, then someone informs you you're the sole surviving heir of a Founder. Brilliant. What next?

He was about to find out. Lupin cleared his throat yet again.

"This is where _A Brief History of Wizardry_ comes in. The passage I read told of an ancient prophecy, made shortly after the schism between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It is transcribed here." He read aloud,

"_When evil awakes a second time_

_And the shadows stretch again_

_The stars foretell a second meeting._

_Twixt old enemies arises new strife_

_When friendship fails and order dies_

_Then shall the orphaned Heir come again_

_And the Inheritance awaken."_

A stunned silence fell, unbearably loud and oppressive,

"How do you know it means me?"

Harry was quite surprised to find that it had been him who had spoken – his mouth seemed to have spat the words out quite unbidden. It was Dumbledore who replied, in a voice laden with what seemed to be sorrow.

"The prophecy was made to Gryffindor, and it is quite clear that it must be Gryffindor's heir that the prophecy refers to; Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have no heirs, and the line of Slytherin's heirs drifted, I am sad to say, into evil many centuries ago. You are the only Heir of Gryffindor, you are orphaned, and thus the only one to whom the prophecy can refer. Furthermore, the arrival of your new power coincides exactly with when the prophecy predicts it would; evil in the form of Voldemort has risen again, and with the Ministry in disarray, I do believe that order has died. And finally, the prophecy was made on Midsummer's Day – the very day on which the power is due to awaken."

Harry drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"So, what is this Inheritance then?"

It was Lupin who answered this one.

"Since the dream you had, Harry, you say that you can do magic without your wand. I wonder if you could do a piece of more complex magic for us without your wand now; could you produce your Patronus?"

Slightly surprised, Harry nevertheless complied. He searched for a happy memory, and settled on then memory of his friends. He considered using Sirius, but even that thought caused a howling emptiness to yawn inside him, and so he abandoned it quickly. Holding the memory in his head, he stretched out his fingers, and cried, _"Expecto Patronum!" _

A silver stag erupted from his fingertips and cantered across the table before vanishing. Harry dimly realised that producing the Patronus seemed actually easier than it did when he was using his wand, but before he could follow that thought back to its origin, Lupin was speaking again.

"You see, Harry, that you can perform this very difficult spell with apparent ease, without your wand. A wand is, as you probably know, used to magnify a wizard's inherent power. It helps to channel it, and increase its potency, which is why wizards cannot perform wandless magic – their power is too unfocused, too weak. However, you have just demonstrated that you can do wandless magic. Do you realise what this means, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, rather dazedly.

"It means that without your wand you are very powerful, as powerful as a full-grown wizard, and that power will increase as you get older. With your wand, however, you are – _terrifyingly powerful_."

_Terrifyingly powerful_. The phrase echoed inside Harry's head. _Terrifyingly powerful. Terrifying…_

It was too much to take in. He shook his head.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed," he said abruptly, and fled the room before anyone could stop him, racing to his room where he threw himself onto his bed, trying desperately to block out that voice and lose himself, to forget the past few hours, to go back to when everything was normal.

But it was impossible.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: And would you believe it, I STILL don't own them! And thankyou to all my lovely reviewers!

Harry awoke early next morning with a fierce shaft of sunlight stretched out across his face. For a moment, he lay there, enjoying the luxurious warmth that the light brought with it. He basked in the heat, feeling almost secure and happy…

Until, that is, he remembered the events of yesterday. The hideous revelations flooded back into his mind, together with the realisation of why he was still dressed in all his clothes – he must, he thought, have fallen asleep before he'd had time to change. Groaning inwardly, he sat up, and briefly considered changing into clean clothes before dismissing the idea as involving far too much effort. He got to his feet and padded silently to the door – a trick he'd learnt from early morning at the Dursleys', so as not to wake the family and thus avoid the awful consequences that were inherent in such an action. The door creaked slowly open, and Harry walked quietly down to the kitchen.

To his surprise, someone else was already there. This threw Harry slightly, as at the Dursleys' nobody usually rose before ten, enabling him to slip downstairs, make himself a slice of toast and return to his bedroom without anyone having noticed his brief excursion. Finding someone already seated at the table, especially when that someone happened to be your ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was therefore something of a novelty.

Having noticed Lupin's presence in the kitchen, therefore, Harry's immediate reaction was to turn straight back around and go back upstairs. In this resolve, however, he was thwarted, as Lupin heard the rustle of Harry's clothing as he prepared to flee, and called out,

"Come in, Harry. I don't bite."

Harry looked up, startled, and saw his ex-professor's mouth quirking into a slight smile. Lupin indicated the seat opposite him, and Harry resignedly slipped into it, readying himself for the stupid lecture that he was sure was about to come. To his surprise, however, when Lupin did speak, it was not to tell him off.

"How are you feeling this morning, then?"

How was he…? How did he _think_ he was feeling, for crying out loud?

"Not too great, for some reason, er…Professor."

"Call me Remus, Harry, please. I am no longer your professor, Lupin makes me sound insanely old, and so Remus will do. I was afraid you'd be feeling a bit down today. Bit of a bombshell last night, I appreciate."

"Just a bit. It's not every day you get told you're suddenly 'terrifyingly powerful,' after all."

Lupin grimaced.

"Bad choice of phrase there, I'm sorry. I realised after you'd left what it must have sounded like."

Harry nodded.

"Like I was Voldemort."

"Quite. So, once again, I apologise. But I have to say, you are not, as I so crassly put it last night, 'terrifyingly powerful' quite yet. Before you can realise your full potential, you will need to learn how to harness your power. So, in order to assist you, you will be receiving extra lessons throughout the new school year from Professor Dumbledore –"

He was interrupted by a loud thud. Harry had just thumped his head on the table. He sat up, rubbing his forehead ruefully.

"Ow…"

He smiled slightly, as did Lupin. They both began to chuckle, then to laugh, far more loudly and long than the situation deserved. For Harry, it was a kind of release, the first time he had laughed during the entire summer so far. He'd forgotten how good it felt.

"What on earth –?"

Molly Weasley was standing in the doorway, a teapot held in her hand. She shook her head in amusement, before setting the pot down on the side and walking back out of the kitchen, still smiling at the incongruous sight of a lean, tired-looking man and a slight, untidy boy apparently helpless with laughter over nothing whatsoever.

The interruption served to quieten the two. After they had both finally stopped shaking with laughter, Lupin turned back to Harry and said,

"Anyway…as I was saying, you will have to have extra lessons with the Headmaster, and you will also study with me for a couple of hours a week."

"Really? With you? But – how?"

Lupin smiled.

"Owing to the Headmaster's lack of success in finding a new candidate for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, he has offered it to me again. The parents have been informed previously, so that we could see who would complain. So far, not enough have written to protest to mean that I cannot take the job. So, I take up the position in September."

Harry grinned – a true smile, one which had not graced his features since Sirius' death.

"That's brilliant! So you will actually be Professor again? So I was in fact right earlier!"

Lupin smiled and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine, you win. Harry 1, Remus 0. But in our private lessons, you call me Remus, OK?"

"OK."

"Good. Right, now I'm afraid I seem to have been appointed the bearer of bad news today – firstly the extra lessons, and now it's my painful duty to have to tell you that Professor Snape will be arriving later today to – test a few things."

Harry groaned. Snape coming round…wonderful. He'd be able to look forward to an entire morning of abuse. How lovely.

"Any idea what these things he'll be testing are?"

Lupin chuckled.

"Whilst of course I am bound to complete secrecy and have obviously told you nothing, and that anything you may learn is entirely due to your own natural brilliance, I believe it may involve a shock assessment on a particular area of study that you have recently been studying with him."

"Oh no," whispered Harry. "Not bloody Occlumency again."

"I said nothing," said Lupin, his face the picture of innocence.

Right, thought Harry. First step in facing down and surviving an encounter with your enemy – fortify yourself.

He went over to the bread-bin, and fished out two slices of bread to make toast. He felt he was going to need them.

Snape arrived at ten o'clock precisely. He strode into the kitchen where he found Harry and Lupin waiting.

"Potter, Lupin," he said with a curt nod to both of them. They nodded back, equally briefly.

"Right then, Potter, let's see how much you've practised your Occlumency this summer. I have to say I am expecting to be disappointed; you never were one to work at anything you found even remotely difficult. Oh, but silly me, I almost forgot," he sneered, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. It was, Harry saw at once, a Hogwarts envelope, marked with the crest. "You might as well open this first, I suppose."

Harry had a horrible suspicion that he knew what this was going to be, and as he pulled out the letter inside, his fears were confirmed.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please find below your O.W.L results. At the bottom you will fins a list of the subjects you will be able to take this year._

_Key to O.W.L grades:_

_O: Outstanding_

_E: Exceeds Expectations_

_A: Acceptable_

_P: Poor_

_D: Dreadful_

_T: Troll_

_Note: starred grades constitute an O.W.L_

_Your results:_

_Transfiguration:_

_Theory: O_

_Practical: E_

_Grade: O_

_Charms:_

_Theory: E_

_Practical: E_

_Grade: E_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts:_

_Theory: O_

_Practical: O_

_Grade: O_

_Potions:_

_Theory: O_

_Practical: E_

_Grade: O_

_History of Magic:_

_Theory: P_

_Grade: P (does not count)_

_Herbology: _

_Theory: E_

_Practical: O_

_Grade: O_

_Care of Magical Creatures:_

_Theory: O_

_Practical: O_

_Astronomy:_

_Marks under consideration due to unforeseen events which occurred during this exam._

_Divination:_

_Practical: D_

_Grade: D (does not count)_

_Total number of O.W.Ls gained: 6 (possibly 7)_

_Congratulations, Mr. Potter. Below is a list of the subjects you may take to complement your chosen profession of Auror. The books required are listed next to the subject._

_Advanced Transfiguration: The Standard Book of More Difficult Spells by _

_Miranda Goshawk_

_Advanced Charms: Charms for Advanced Students by Frederick Velvet_

_Advanced Potions: NEWT level Potions by Helga Andersson_

_Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts: Fighting Evil by Ungularis Epsom_

_Care of Magical Creatures: n/a_

_Advanced Herbology: n/a _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

A handwritten note was attached to the letter.

_Mr. Potter – _

_Although there are other subjects available to students, I would recommend you stick with these, as you will be quite busy enough with your extra lessons as it is._

_-Professor McGonagall_

Harry looked up from the letter.

"Well?" demanded Lupin.

Harry grinned again.

"6. And I got Outstanding for Defence, Transfiguration, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology."

"That's fantastic, Harry! Just – fantastic!"

"Touching as this is, I do have other demands on my time," drawled a voice from behind Lupin. Harry sighed; he'd momentarily forgotten about Snape. Wearily, he put the letter down and turned back to face his Potions teacher.

"Thankyou _so_ much, Potter. Right, let's see how pathetic this is. _Legilimens!" _

Harry had been preparing himself for an assault on his mind, and trying, as always, to throw up a wall between himself and the inevitable punch of Snape's mind. As he heard the incantation, he hurled his remaining power at Snape's mind, hoping, but not expecting as he hadn't done this all summer, to blunt the blow.

What happened, however, was much more surprising.

Snape flew backwards across the room, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. When he got up, his face was bright red – not, in Harry's opinion, really his colour.

"_What did you do, Potter?"_

"I tried to empty my mind, and then started to build a wall between us again," answered Harry truthfully. "Then I wasn't going to get it finished, so I threw the remaining power at you to try to protect myself."

"Interesting," mused Lupin. "Harry, I wonder if you would just let Professor Snape enter your mind unhindered for a moment?"

"All right…" Harry agreed reluctantly. He wasn't really in the mood to have his worst memories dragged up.

"_Legilimens!"_

Again, Harry waited for the blow of Snape's mind. And again, he felt – nothing. He opened his eyes to see Snape standing in front of him with a look on his face as though he was struggling again something enormously powerful. Then, abruptly, he stopped, and opened his eyes.

"I cannot break into his mind, Lupin. Somehow he has become an extraordinarily accomplished Occlumens between the break-up of school and now. There is nothing more I can teach him."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Harry and Lupin standing amazed in the centre of the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Would you believe that I still don't own them?

Harry stared at Lupin blankly, whose eyes were still fixed on Snape's retreating, black-clad back.

"What the hell was that all about?"

Lupin appeared to come back to himself, and glanced at Harry.

"I have to say, Harry, that I'm not entirely sure. Somehow, you've just blocked your mind to Severus – but how, I cannot say." He looked back at the closed door, his amber eyes clouded by thought, before shaking his head as if to clear it of disturbing visions, and turned to smile at Harry. "Well, anyway, we're free of his presence at least. Now then, I believe Professor Dumbledore wished to speak with you." He grinned at Harry's expression, which was one of horrified resignation. "I believe you'll find him in the study upstairs."

Harry glumly about-faced and wandered towards the door. When he reached the doorway itself, he paused, and glanced back at Lupin.

"Just promise me one thing – if I'm still in there at midnight, come and rescue me?"

They both grinned at each other again, and with a wave of Lupin's hand, Harry had gone through the doorway and began climbing the stairs to the second landing, where the study was situated, as he remembered.

As he climbed, listening to the gentle creaking of the floorboards under his feet, he was suddenly and painfully reminded of another pair of feet that had climbed these same stairs every day, such a short time ago, and which would never climb them again – because of _his_ stupidity, _his _recklessness and 'love of playing the hero..'

And he had to stop, before the treacherous tears spilled out, had to stop, before he displayed his weakness to everyone. Having got himself under control once more, he carried on up the wide, sweeping flight, tripping on the holes in the moth-eaten carpet, until he reached the wide oaken door with its carved panels behind which he remembered the study lay. He pushed it open, and walked in.

The room was dark and dank, with the faint ray of light slanting through the grimy window only serving to highlight the swirling dust motes that pervaded the air throughout the entire room. A large desk stood at one side, and a huge high-backed chair behind, its once-impressive size now dulled by the many cobwebs that obscured it, hanging limply from it in many lank strands. Bookcase-clad walls seemed to close in around Harry as he walked reluctantly forwards, and the bare boards echoed menacingly with each of his footsteps. Against the high window that covered the back wall stood Dumbledore's tall, thin figure, the dim light shining through his beard and turning it to a web of shining silver filaments. Hearing Harry's grudging footsteps, he turned, smiling as he watched the boy approach.

"Harry. Good of you to join me so promptly. I will not take much of your time."

Harry wondered grumpily why it was that Dumbledore always managed to make him feel so bloody guilty about not wanting to have to spend yet more time in the old man's company. Dumbledore indicated a chair, half-hidden in the shadows in front of the desk. Harry sat down, and the headmaster slipped into the chair behind the desk, steepling his fingers before his face as he did so.

"Now, Harry, to business. As you know, your recently inherited power will no doubt make you an even more attractive target for Voldemort, so we must take extra measures for your protection. The first of these will be..."

As Harry listened, not really paying attention, he became aware of a strange prickling sensation creeping gradually over his skin. The nearest thing that he could compare it to was that of a large electric charge building up over his body. It was...uncomfortable, though not particularly painful. He decided to ignore it, as a probable result of the still, stuffy air in the study. However, the sensation grew stronger, increasing in strength, until it really was becoming painful. When it reached the point at which his entire body felt somewhat akin to a lightning rod, he thought he should probably tell Dumbledore, and opened his mouth to say something.

As he did so, his scar exploded into searing, white-hot flaming pain.

Instantly, the study was gone, and there was nothing but blackness everywhere. He was floating in shadow, and any sense of a body he had ever had had disappeared, leaving simply a feeling of..._himself_, awash in never-ending dark...

At the same time, he began to feel a curious sensation in what he had to call his mind, for want of a better word. It was as though a hand had inserted itself into his head and was rummaging around his brain, searching for something. Harry felt it sort through his memories, beginning with those of his childhood, and scenes began to flash before his eyes. It was like Snape's Occlumency lessons all over again, except that this time, the scenes were not all-encompassing; Harry kept a sense of where he was at all times, and of the presence going methodically through his mind. The scenes began to get more recent – images of Hogwarts, of Ron and Hermione, of Sirius...and of Sirius falling through the veil, falling with a slightly surprised look on his face, falling to his death...and though the old familiar grief and shame welled up again in his heart (or where, he presumed, his heart would have been, if he actually possessed a body at this moment in time), the presence was not removed, and now the memories were growing ever closer to the present time...

_Enough_, he thought. With that thought, he concentrated all his mind power on ousting the presence, on forcing it to leave, and gradually, he felt it slipping from him, felt it begin to lose its grip on him. Finally, he knew that the last vestiges of the possession had faded and gone.

Now, he was only left with the problem of what to do now.

Precisely, he was left with the conundrum of how to get back to his body.

* * *

When the boy had collapsed, Albus Dumbledore had just finished outlining his plans for Harry's up-and-coming lessons. He'd been somewhat pleasantly surprised by Harry's silent compliance – he'd been expecting a furious outburst at the very least at the news that he was to remain at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the holidays. So, as he finished, he had looked up, to see Harry leaning forward and opening his mouth as if to speak, and had thought to himself that this was undoubtedly where Harry began to yell at him again. 

And he had watched, aghast, as the boy had collapsed forward, off his chair.

As fast as a man of swiftly advancing years was able, he had hurried around the desk that stood between him and Harry, and had moved to turn him over, and had flinched as he experienced a sudden and painful shock. Stumped momentarily by this interesting turn of events, he sat back and considered how best to proceed. Then, he swiftly cast an Insulation Charm over his hands, and turned Harry over, moving quickly so as not to allow the shock to eat through the charm.

Harry's eyes were open. Dumbledore glanced briefly at them, before checking the rest of him to ensure that all relevant limbs were still attached – and then looked back at his eyes, and stared.

All trace of green had vanished, and in its place was a tiny circle of deep gold surrounding each dilated pupil. Dumbledore dropped him and stood up, moving hurriedly backwards. If what had happened was what he suspected had happened, then there was nothing that could be done for Harry.

* * *

Harry had not yet decided what he was going to do about this unexpected situation. This was not, he assured himself, because he didn't _know_ what to do. He had simply not yet made up his mind as to which course of action he was going to pursue. 

Oh, who was he kidding. He hadn't got a clue.

_OK. Step one, evaluate the situation._

He was currently floating, disembodied, in what appeared to be a large sea of nothingness.

_Step two, think of course of action._

This was where he hit the snag.

Well, he reasoned, he might as well try something. He began by imagining his body, remembering every detail, how it felt to move, to smile, to cry. The feel of his hair under his fingers. The exact shade of green he saw when he looked at his eyes in the mirror. The way that, if he curled his left big toe, it clicked when he straightened it out again. He focused every tiny particle of his mind on himself as he remembered it.

Opening his eyes, he saw...

...exactly the same as he had seen when he closed them.

Bugger.

And this was where the Idea struck him. Later, he would marvel at his own brilliance. At the time, he simply grabbed onto it as the only present hope of salvation.

Closing his eyes again, he did the same, but at the same time he delved back, deep into his mind, to find the very centre of what he considered as himself.

And there he found it. A deep – _sense_ of power. He couldn't describe it, but he knew that he had to use it. Keeping this discovery uppermost in his mind, he reached for the feeling of his body, and poured out the power into this memory.

Light exploded behind his eyes.

He was falling, back through the darkness, falling so rapidly that, although he knew that at the moment he did not need air, it still felt as though he was struggling for breath.

And suddenly, he stopped. Inching open his eyelids, he was blinded for an instant by the brightness of this world. He turned his head, and there, there, there was his body, his hand, and beyond it, the astounded faces of Dumbledore, Lupin and – Mrs Weasley (the latter of which's face was streaked as though with suspect tears)?

He let his head rock back to its original position and smiled. He was home.

**AN: I owe you all an apology! I'm so sorry that this has been so late coming, but I hit a nasty little patch of writer's block which obliterated every idea I had for this story. So, I hope this is OK and the block isn't quite so obvious as in a few of the earlier drafts.**

**A very large, very fluffy thankyou to my lovely beta Juno Malabre who has bullied me for weeks about writing this, whilst simultaneously writing bloody incredible stories which I recommend you read - after telling me what you think of this one!**

**And of course, if there is anybody out there still reading this, thankyou for hanging on! Please review and tell me what you think - eternal gratitude will be winging its way over to you approximately 30 seconds after you submit that review.**

**Also, I know that part of this sounds rather like the passage from Philip Pullman's 'The Amber Spyglass,' but I couldn't think of any other way to write it. Apologies therefore.**

**Fippets xx**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would not be poor and destitute. But I am. Ergo, I don't.

When Harry came to again, the scene was much the same as before, with the notable lack of Dumbledore's anxious face peering down at him. Instead, only Lupin and Mrs Weasley were present in the room, Lupin bent over a book and Mrs Weasley – knitting, which seemed slightly incongruous. Harry moistened cracked lips, and croaked out a single word.

"Remus?"

Instantly, Lupin's head flew up. An inscrutable expression crossed his face on seeing that Harry was awake again, but he swiftly got up in one fluid motion and filled a glass with water from the tap in the corner of the room. Casting a brief Chilling Charm over the glass, he handed it to Harry, who drank deeply and gratefully. Having satisfied his thirst, he lowered the glass and turned back to Lupin.

"How is it that you know what it is I'm thinking before I tell you?"

"Practice," the older man replied in a dry tone. "That and the fact that I could smell the thirst on you."

Harry smiled weakly; he'd forgotten all about Lupin's lycanthropy and its unusual effect on his senses. He leaned back again onto soft, downy pillows, and let his unbearably heavy head fall back onto them, before voicing the one thought that had been chasing its merry way around his splitting brain ever since he had properly woken up.

"What happened?"

"Well, now, that's a very good question, Harry. I was rather hoping you'd fill me in slightly, before I tell you the current theory doing the rounds."

Harry flumped back bodily onto the many pillows that had somehow appeared behind him.

"I was in the study, listening to Dumbledore drone on about safety measures he'll be taking to protect me now that I've got this power when I felt something that was – like electricity, do you know what that is?" Seeing Lupin nod, he continued. "Anyway, I thought it'd go away if I ignored it, but it didn't, it got stronger and started to hurt, so I thought I should tell Dumbledore, but when I was about to – I vanished."

He paused for a minute, and drank some more water before going on.

"It was like, I had no body any more, just this weird sense of me, in darkness the whole time. And there was something else, felt like someone was looking for something in my head, but I kicked it out. Then I had to get out of...wherever I was. I had a bit of trouble with that one, but I worked it out eventually by memorising how it felt to be _me_ and then using my power to get me back, and then I was..back...here.." He faltered off, disconcerted, at the look on Lupin's face. "What?"

"Tell me, Harry, how long were you unconscious for before you woke up?"

Harry paused and thought back to his brief sojourn in that land of never-ending darkness. "About…half an hour? An hour, maximum."

"Try three weeks."

"_What?!_"

"It has been three weeks yesterday since you lost consciousness in the study upstairs. Since then you've been completely out, not a sign of life whatsoever. When you woke up yesterday…well, you gave us a bit of a shock, actually. We were – on the verge of giving up hope. We – I, Molly and Dumbledore, until yesterday, have been in here practically all that time."

Realising that he'd not heard a word from the usually voluble Mrs. Weasley, Harry glanced over at her, and saw that, while she was hunched over in her chair, knitting needles held limply in her hands, she had in fact fallen asleep. She looked…exhausted. Tearing his gaze away from the slumbering woman, he turned back to Lupin.

"But…I don't understand. I wasn't unconscious for very long at all! How can it have been three weeks? It's just not possible!"

"Harry, if you would let me speak for just five minutes, I will tell you what we believe happened to you. You spoke of a presence that felt as though it was inside your mind?"

Harry nodded dumbly, still finding it very hard to accept that he'd just lost three weeks of time in what felt like thirty minutes.

"We have reason to believe that this presence was, in fact, Voldemort."

The news didn't startle Harry as he might have expected it to. Instead, all he felt was a weary numbness, as though really he'd already known it. Lupin glanced at him, and carried on.

"The sensation that you described before you passed out, that of a feeling similar to that of static electricity building up on your skin, was, we think, Voldemort attempting to gain access to your mind as he has done with such success on previous occasions. He was not, however, able to accomplish it, for the same reason that Severus was equally unable to break through your mental barriers. It would appear that with the inheritance of your power, your mind has formed practically impregnable shields. A Legilimens, no matter how skilled, is unable to break through them.

"There is, however, one other way to gain access to a mind, and unluckily for us Voldemort was so desperate to break into your head that he decided to use it. It is an unbelievably dangerous method, and the very fact that Voldemort felt confident enough to make use of it suggests that he is more secure in his power than we had feared. Nevertheless, to have used it will have drained him considerably, and he will need time to recover; we have, perhaps, less to fear from him at the moment, at least for a short time. And, of course, he will believe that he has got rid of you forever.

"The place that you remember – it does have a name. It is, however, a dark name, and one which should not be spoken lightly, especially not in these times. We are safe enough here, though, and I can tell you without great fear of recrimination.

"It is named in Welsh – Dofn Y Dyffryn, the Deep Valley."

As Lupin spoke the ancient name, the strange words rolling in an unfamiliar manner from his tongue, Harry felt an indescribable dread grow in his stomach, though he could not explain why. It was as though someone was speaking to him of a terrible event that had happened in a dream, but a dream that was fading quickly, and the cause of the dread slips from the waker like sand through fingers. Then, Lupin was speaking again, and Harry wrenched his attention back to the thin man sitting by his bedside.

"It is the place between worlds. Nothing exists there, or could ever exist there. It is only accessible to those with magic in their blood; indeed, it is only the magic which preserves a soul sent there. When Voldemort ripped your soul from your body –"

"And _hold it right there_," Harry interrupted. "What d'you mean, 'when Voldemort ripped my soul from my body?' I was personally unaware that my soul had ever left my body!"

"How else can you explain the fact that you were in Dofn Y Dyffryn? And there is no doubt that the Deep Valley was where you were. Voldemort ripped you from your body to reach into your mind. I have no doubt that what he was searching for was the knowledge of the prophecy that you prevented him from acquiring back in June. But then, his curiosity was aroused. How could you have stopped him from simply forcing himself into your mind as he had done so many times before? He was determined to find out. And so he delved deeper into your subconscious, your memories, to try and find the answer. I think that it must be too much to hope for that he did not discover the truth about your new-found power."

"But that's just it. He didn't," Harry told him. "I was watching all these scenes from my memory as he went through them, and before he even got to where I found out what the prophecy was, I kicked him out, I told you. He never found out about the Inheritance."

The astounded look on Lupin's face was almost comical.

"You mean he – he hasn't – are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then, Harry, this is better news than we could have dreamed of. We now have two advantages; the knowledge of the prophecy, and the Inheritance. I must inform Dumbledore…"

He began to get up, but Harry stopped him.

"Hang on. I want to know how I could have been in this Deep Valley place for so long. And if it's so unusual for me to have returned – you were all pretty surprised, anyway – how does anyone know it even exists?"

Lupin sighed, and sat back down.

"When Voldemort forced his way deeper and deeper into your mind, he also forced your soul deep into Dofn Y Dyffryn. Time has no meaning there, because it does not exist there. Nothing exists there; it is somewhat akin to a magical vacuum. If you had remained for very much longer, the magical residue in your soul would not have been able to withstand the chasm, and you would have been lost to us completely. In fact, we thought that you had been. Only one other wizard has ever returned from that place, and that barely in time, and it was he who gave it its name. Have you heard of Gwydion?"

Harry racked his brains. "Name popped up a couple of times in History of Magic, I think…"

"Gwydion was one of the three great Welsh wizards, who are now only remembered in myth and legend. The story goes that a particularly complex spell that he was attempting misfired, and the power that was unleashed from the control spells that he was using tore his soul from his body and thrust him into the space between the worlds. He returned, but none who have ever disappeared into that place have since. He documented his stay in the Deep Valley, and it was from his records that we were able to work out what had happened to you. If you are still uncertain, look at your eyes."

Lupin held out a small mirror, and Harry glanced into it. Where previously his eyes had been pure, bright emerald green, now a small circle of gold remained at the centre of each green iris, just around the pupil. Harry stared, and then his head shot back up to look questioningly at Lupin, whose expression was one of mingled sadness and wonder.

"None who ever return from the Valley return unscathed."

* * *

After the conversation with Lupin had reached its end, Lupin left to inform Dumbledore of their unexpected good fortune regarding Voldemort's ignorance. Harry himself was hungry enough to stagger out of bed and down to the kitchen, where he discovered that the Order did, apparently, lower themselves to eat sandwiches once in a while, judging by the large loaf of bread standing on the side next to the huge black range that dominated one side of the kitchen, and the sandwich ingredients spread liberally around the table. Discovering a long and vicious-looking bread knife in a drawer, Harry sawed himself off a couple of slices and flung a couple of leaves of lettuce between them; he didn't really feel up to anything more artistic.

He was munching this when green flame shot up briefly in the cavernous fireplace, and a tall, thin figure unfolded itself, before tucking its beard neatly back into its belt.

Dumbledore straightened up, and smiled when he caught sight of Harry.

"Ah, Harry. Good to see you up and about. You gave us quite a scare, I must say."

"Evidently," Harry muttered in reply. "It seems that I caused a bit of trouble, more than I was expecting at any rate."

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, and spoke again.

"I have just returned from a meeting with Remus Lupin. He informs me that Voldemort is more ignorant that we had previously assumed."

Harry nodded. "I stopped him before he found my memories of either the prophecy or the Inheritance."

"Then you did extremely well. However, he will now wish to know how you did it; you have not, after all, always been successful in resisting his attempts at forced entry before. And, I am afraid, this places you at danger once again, Harry. Voldemort will, I believe, attempt to wrest this information from you again, and we cannot be sure that your mental shields will be able to withstand him should he use the full force of his power. We must, therefore, take alternative action."

Harry didn't like the sound of this.

"What exactly do you mean by _alternative action_?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment before speaking, and his eyes searched Harry's face.

"There is a spell, similar to the Fidelius Charm which was used to protect your parents, but much more complicated. It has long fallen into disuse because of the immense power that is needed to perform it, and indeed there now remain no documents on how to perform it – except for the last one written, which is to be found in my possession. The spell has no name, and the incantation alone remains. Its function is to lock particular information away, as with the Fidelius Charm, but with the significant difference that, rather than being locked within the soul of another, it is locked within the soul of the person that it affects."

Harry blinked.

"You mean...about the prophecy and the Inheritance, that'd all be locked inside _my_ soul?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, Harry, that is exactly what I mean. The charm also carries an in-built Memory Charm, as it were, so that as soon as the charm has been performed, the memory of the information would be forgotten by everyone except yourself, of course. You would be able to return the information to us by repeating a simple phrase, at which the memory would return and we would be able to help you. The advantage of this charm is that _nobody_ can reveal the information without your express permission; another part of the charm is that it prevents this, even those to whom you have revealed the secret. I would suggest, Harry, that you reveal this information only to myself and Remus, so that we can assist you."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Harry blurted.

"I would advise you at the moment to say nothing of this to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. It would only put them at danger, Harry, and I believe that that is the last thing you wish to do at the moment. There may indeed come a time when you have to tell them, but I would strongly counsel you that that moment is not now."

With a heavy heart, Harry nodded. He'd known he'd be alone, but this just confirmed it – not to mention the fact, he remembered, that he was going to have to come up with a _really_ good excuse as to why he kept disappearing for lessons all term. _Even more pressure, Potter. Great._

"Then, Harry, I would suggest that we perform the charm now. Are you ready? I am afraid that it may be painful, but the pain should not last for too long, and you will not be adversely affected."

Dumbledore drew his wand from his sleeve. Walking over to Harry, he touched the tip to each of his wrists, to his throat, his forehead, and to his heart. Taking a step back then, he raised his wand, and cried,

"_Fidelio Ingenio!_"

Harry's immediate reaction was to the prickling, burning sensation that was beginning at all the places that Dumbledore's wand had touched, and spreading out across his entire body. He shifted, trying to escape it, but the feeling only intensified, building to a crackling pain that encompassed him completely. Feeling as though power was being leeched from him entirely, and that he was surely going to die, he screamed, before arching back into unconsciousness...

He came to a few minutes later, to see Dumbledore standing over him, a concerned expression on his lined face.

"Harry, are you all right?"

"Fine," he gasped, scrambling to his feet. "Just the charm, Professor..."

"Charm, Harry?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, to see a puzzled expression creeping over his face. He was annoyed – was the old man playing tricks on him? And then, he remembered; Dumbledore had also been affected by the memory-modification. He cleared his throat.

"Professor, remember the Inheritance and the prophecy."

The look of confusion faded, and comprehension returned to his professor's face.

"Ah. So it worked, then. Excellent. Well done, Harry. And now, I think, you deserve some rest, don't you?"

Harry, who was nearly dead on his feet, could only nod and stumble to the door and out into the sitting room, before he fell asleep on a moth-eaten old couch.


End file.
